Eyes to the Soul (24 page)

“As in keeping a watchful eye or keeping a physical eye?”

A physical eye
, Stefan said, hearing the humor in his friend’s voice.
Glad everyone is having fun at my expense, but Celina is a long way away from having a relationship.

“Too bad, I feel for you,” Brandt said with just enough honesty that Stefan relaxed.

Thanks.

“She doesn’t live that far out of my way. I’ll run by and drop the stack off if that helps.”

That would be good,
Stefan acknowledged.
I can study them here. How long are you going to be?

“Leaving soon. So I’ll print off this extra information and add it to the growing pile and be there in…” he paused, checking his watch, “in about fifteen minutes.”

Okay, come upstairs to the apartment. I’ll be waiting.

Stefan zoomed out of town to check in on Sam, planning on questioning her further only to find her fast asleep on the couch, both dogs ever watchful at her side. He sent some soothing energy down over both dogs’ backs, letting them know he was here. Both whined and wagged their tails.

It’s all right, guys. I’m going to work on Sam’s energy a bit to help her sleep better.
As he looked at Samantha’s aura he realized that although she’d been working at keeping her guards in place, the lack of sleep and worry had allowed the energy barrier to thin down to almost nothing. He spent a few moments easing the pain from her soul and pulling back some of the tight, dark cloud over her glowing energy.

Sam was a beacon for violence and needed more care than most psychics. She was an apt pupil and had come a long way, but there was still that remnant of inexperience that kept getting frazzled to the point that it was hurting her. He spent long moments easing back her ruffled edges and stroked her aura into peacefulness.

A harsh noise snapped him out of his meditation, pulling him back to Celina’s living room…and slamming him back into his body.

When the doorbell rang again he managed to make it to the front door in time to stop Brandt from pushing the damn bell a third time.

“I should have mentioned that Celina is asleep.”

Brandt’s eyebrows shot up. “You really are looking after her, aren’t you?”

Stefan nodded. “There is something beyond odd happening here. Until I can get a handle on it I can’t tell if she’s seriously in danger, or is a serious danger to others, or just what is going on.”

He led the way to the kitchen. Brandt dropped the folder on the table. “This is the little bit I have on Joey Brown. His background is coming in from the group out canvassing. We’re trying to figure out why he stabbed the women. According to Sam it was anger, but there had to be a trigger.”

“And that was likely the burning pain.”

“So the women were likely just in the wrong place at the wrong time?”

“Quite possible, but due diligence will need to be done to make sure he doesn’t have a connection to one of these specific women.”

“It’s all in progress. I’ll update you when I get more. At the moment it looked like the knife was there and so were the women and he just attacked.”

“And that makes a sick kind of sense. I’ll work on this tonight.”

Brandt stayed quiet. Stefan looked up from the paperwork spread across the table. “What?”

“There is something else. The blood tests came back from the blood found on Celina’s bathroom. You were right.” He shook his head. “I don’t know how but it’s Jacob’s blood.”

Stefan winced.

Brandt glared at him. “Do you have an explanation? One other than Celina did this herself?”

“It wasn’t Celina.” Stefan leaned back. “Damn.”

“Well, I know there is some freaky stuff in your world, but this is the first I’ve had a coma patient write notes on a bathroom wall in his own blood.”

“But it’s not my first time for a coma patient to do something unbelievable.” Stefan frowned. He wondered if Jacob could have possessed someone else – and he hated to consider it, but if he’d taken possession of Celina – then the writing on the wall could have been hers. No. She couldn’t have written so cleanly with her eyesight. Unless somehow Jacob had been able to see enough to get the job done.

He shook his head slowly from side to side. He couldn’t believe it. He wouldn’t believe. He knew inside it hadn’t been her.

“It wasn’t Celina’s energy on the wall. But I have no idea if Jacob could have done this himself. Given what Lissa can do… it’s not out of the realm of possibility.”

“Hell.” Brandt shook his head. “Well, until we figure this out, we need to keep Celina away from Jacob and hope that Jacob wakes up and can answer a few questions for us.”

“He might not remember anything,” Stefan pointed out.

“No. He might not, but more to the point is let’s make sure that Celina didn’t either.” Brandt studied Stefan’s face. “I’m worried. You’re in really deep with her, aren’t you?”

Stefan stared back at one of the best friends he’d been lucky enough to have in his life and said in a quiet voice, “I always have been. She’s always been a major part of my life. That has never changed.”

*

Celina opened her
eyes to foreign sounds. Stefan. So he was still here…and he was speaking with someone. Then she heard sounds of a door closing. She lay quietly, getting used to the idea of a watchdog. And a stranger at that. How long had it been since anyone had cared for her enough to watch over her in person? No one since Peter. He’d been so possessive and careful to make sure she was looking after herself that if she didn’t he did it for her. He’d often run out to make sure there was food in the cupboard, enough of her favorite tea in stock, or any number of other little things that showed her how much he’d cared. She’d loved him to distraction.

But that possessiveness had become confining, controlling. Enough that they’d fought over it. Enough that she’d had second thoughts…

It was so different with Stefan. With Stefan she felt safe, cared for… without that stifling possessiveness. She didn’t understand why she’d trusted him as easily and as quickly as she had…but she did. He made her feel safe. Secure.

Then again it was early days yet.

Also there was no guarantee that he’d stick around for long, but she wanted what time she could have. She’d learned how dreams turned to dust, and the people she loved disappeared. Like Peter.

Somewhere along the way the pain of her loss had disappeared and she hadn’t noticed. She carefully opened up that part of her psyche and took a long, in-depth look. There was a tiny ache for what might have been, but other than that there was no leftover grief. She’d passed that point a long time ago and hadn’t even noticed.

She smiled. Then heard Stefan moving around in the kitchen.

And the smile dropped away.

Just because she was over one relationship didn’t mean she wanted to dive into another one. She wasn’t sure Stefan would give her a choice.

Feeling confused, she got up and walked into her bathroom. A shower might help. The hot water sluiced down her back in waves of comforting warmth. She stood, eyes closed, letting it pour over her. Somehow, from somewhere deep inside that she hadn’t even known was there, tears started to pour.

And pour. She didn’t make a sound, but the pain, the frustration, the fear. God, the crippling fear… everything she’d stuffed down oozed outward through her tears as she let the last of all she’d been holding onto slip from where she’d been keeping it all hidden. As soon as that older fear had drained, the newer fear and turmoil of the last few days rose along with the grief for her friends and their families. The bottleneck burst and suddenly she was crouched at the base of the tub, the water pounding on her spine as she sobbed.

She heard a voice a long way away say, “Easy, Celina, take it easy.”

The bathtub’s glass sliding door opened, letting a draft of cool air inside. She didn’t have to ask who it was. Stefan’s presence was warm and easily identifiable. This man cared on a level she wasn’t sure she’d ever known before. But she wanted to.

And there was nothing confining about it.

The water taps squeaked in front of her and the hot stream pounding down slowed to a trickle, then stopped. Still a few more sobs came out. A towel was wrapped around her slim frame and she was picked up, still curled up into a ball.

She almost said something but was caught up by the rapt feeling of being carried. She hadn’t been looking for a relationship. She wasn’t now either. But in spite of that it looked like one was possibly waiting for her. If she was willing to take that step.

Quietly acquiescent, she waited, wondering what he’d do next.

*

Stefan carried Celina
into her bedroom, wondering at the sensations rolling through him. When she’d stayed in the bathroom for as long as she had he’d dropped his own defenses and let himself open up to her energy to see if she was okay. As her emotions rolled through him, he realized how overwhelmed she was. Some of it was easy to understand and some was not. He could feel the aged quality to many of them, and as he knew only the barest of her history he couldn’t place much of it.

As long as she was dealing with them one way or another he was good with that. Everyone had a history, including him, and whether he remembered all of his or wanted to even explore that part of himself, that was his choice. Just as she had to make her choices.

Right now the vibes were all about letting go. That was hard on anybody, but she’d be so much better for it. She just needed to know that she wasn’t alone.

She’d left her bedding turned back so he set her down in the middle, efficiently stripped off the wet towel and wrapped the bedding around her as she sat waiting. With the same towel he gently dried her hair. Spying a brush on her night table, he shifted to sit behind her, picked up the brush, and gently stroked her wet hair.

She never moved. Never said a word.

But the tears had stopped. Her emotions had calmed and she was relaxed, at peace. The letting go would allow her to see more clearly.

“You’re very good at this,” she whispered.

“Am I?” He smiled. “That’s good. I can’t remember the last time I might have brushed a woman’s hair.” It wasn’t a natural thing for him to do. But in this case she’d been like a child and in need of care.

That he could do.

“I didn’t mean the hair thing as much as the looking after me.” Her voice was low but peaceful.

“We all need looking after sometimes.”

“Not you,” she said with surprising force. “I can’t see you ever needing to be looked after.”

He paused, the hairbrush held midair, and thought about the many times recently where his friends had come into the ethers to find him or sat watching over his body while he’d been gone, or joined him at the children’s hospital where he couldn’t do what needed to be done alone. “You’d be wrong. Especially lately. There have been too many times where I did need exactly that.”

She twisted around enough so she could stare toward him, making him wonder once again at what she really saw, and said in a gentle voice, “Tell me.”

Not wanting to open himself up meant not giving her what she needed, and that wasn’t acceptable. He thought about the various incidences and compromised by explaining about one of the times where he’d exhausted himself to the point of having to be hospitalized by splitting his energy in too many directions to keep track of many different events at one time.

She was silent for a long moment. “You can do that?”

“Yes. And much more.”

“Like?”

“Like leave my body at will, or go to a place with my energetic body so I’m still in residence but can get the information I need anyway. It’s not as clear and I can’t do much to help at the other end, but it works well enough most of the time.”

She sat quietly, listening once again with her back turned his way, not commenting. So he pushed the envelope of acceptance a little. “And I can communicate telepathically with most people.”

That did it. She stiffened and turned around again, pinning him in place with that fierce blind gaze. He waited.